


Harry and the Potter: Back to Earth

by suitesamba



Series: Harry and the Potter [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-07
Updated: 2012-05-07
Packaged: 2017-11-04 23:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suitesamba/pseuds/suitesamba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary</b>: A vignette-style sequel to “Harry and the Potter.”  Twelve years after Harry and Severus reconnect in America then return to England, one Albus Severus is married and a father and the other is about to take the plunge.<br/><b>Disclaimer</b>: Most of the characters in this story are not mine. No money is being made from this story, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harry and the Potter: Back to Earth

**Author's Note:**

> You can find the original story here:  
> [Harry and the Potter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/277978)

“Severus?”

Harry’s voice called out from the front of the shop. Severus, whose hands were buried in the wedge of clay before him, turned his head.

“Back here, Harry.”

Harry appeared in the open doorway that connected the storage area of the barn-like shop with the large, airy workspace in back. 

“Gran’pa!”

Harry grinned as he came in, pausing to ruffle the hair of the small boy sitting across from Severus. 

“Blending for Papi, Edourde?” He reached around his grandson and placed a hand on the clay, feeling it, digging his fingers an inch or so into the ball. “Five more minutes, maybe ten.”

“I _know_ , Gran’pa,” answered the child, rolling his eyes and continuing to work his small hands into the clay.

“Where’s Albus?” asked Harry, standing back and eying the clay on the table critically. 

“Thestrals are foaling,” said Severus. “Charlie called him in to help with a set of twins. Eduorde went with him and wandered off into the Forest one time too many.”

“Can’t see ‘em yet,” said the little boy. “It’s boring when you can’t see the foals.”

“Good,” said Harry. “You don’t need to see thestrals for a very long time.”

“We’re makin’ Uncle Al’s present,” Edourde volunteered. “Papi, when is the baby coming?”

Severus managed to look serious even while suppressing a smile.

“The present we are making is a wedding present,” he stressed patiently. “For your Uncle Al’s wedding. And the baby is coming some months after the wedding.” He shook his head slightly, more amused than disapproving.

“I want to come with you next time to dig,” declared Eduorde. “To Abiquiu.” He looked over at Severus with wide, soulful brown eyes. “Can I?”

“May I,” corrected Severus. “And you already know it is your parents’ decision, not mine.”

“When I’m eight,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “You can’t just Floo across the ocean, you know,” he informed them, obviously repeating words he had heard from his parents many times.

“Three more years,” said Harry. 

“You closed the shop early.” Severus’ nimble, long-fingered hands smoothed the wedge of clay before him. While Eduorde’s clay was brick red with streaks of tan, the clay Severus was working was almost blue-gray, a most unusual color.

“I left Rose in charge,” explained Harry. “I wanted to help you pack that shipment for Taos.” He stepped around the table to look more closely at the clay Severus was working, then reached out toward it and Severus stilled his hands, waiting for Harry’s hand to graze the clay, perhaps bury its fingers in the cool depths. 

“I thought I’d try my hand at a Navajo wedding vase,” said Severus quietly as Harry’s hand rested on the wedge of clay, fingers pressing in only fractionally.

Harry moved his hand off the clay to cover Severus.’ 

“It’s good,” he said. “It will be beautiful and he’ll love it. They both will.” Severus nodded and continued working. 

“The cups are on the counter. Don’t play with the bubble wrap.”

Edourde’s eyes lit up. “Papi! Can I have a piece?”

“May I,” corrected Severus.

“I’ll bring you a small piece when I’m finished,” Harry said, smiling fondly at the small boy. “You’ll need to finish your clay and clean your hands before you play with it.”

The child smiled. “Merci, Gran’pa.” He then looked at Severus, who was still looking at him expectantly. 

“ _May_ I,” he finished with a sigh.

“You may,” answered Severus.

~*~

“Why did we never see this coming?” asked Harry softly. He sat at one of the empty wheels in the shop, gazing across at the counter where not one but two Navajo wedding vases were drying.

“Al getting married?” asked Severus. He was washing his hands in the deep work sink and turned his head to look at Harry as he spoke. “Did you think he would never find love again?”

“I hoped he would,” answered Harry. He stood up and approached the counter to study the vessels more closely. “It just seemed he’d never actually go looking for it again.”

“Sometimes it comes looking for you instead,” said Severus, more to himself than to Harry. He picked up a cotton towel and began to dry his hands.

Harry turned to look at Severus now. “You mean like when it plops you down in a country you’ve never been to before and the next thing you know you’re looking at someone you thought you’d never see again?”

“Yes, exactly like that,” commented Severus as he hung up the towel then straightened it on the rack. “Harry, it’s been six years since Paul was killed. It was time.”

Harry nodded absently, looking back at the two vessels. “Why two?”

“I’ll choose the best after they’re fired and glazed.”

“And heir and a spare,” commented Harry wryly.

Severus rolled his eyes then looked at Harry, his eyes serious. “You’ve said you are not disappointed Al chose a woman this time. Yet I wonder….”

“Genevieve is lovely,” answered Harry quickly. “She makes him happy. I can see it every time I see them together—and when he’s here without her too.”

“But Paul…?” Severus leaned back against a heavy counter, hands folded in front of him in his customary stance. Harry turned away from him, studying the drying vessels Severus had placed on the counter an hour ago. These were not his first attempts. He had made and discarded an even dozen before he kept the first one, and several more after that before he kept a second.

“Paul made him alive,” he said after a thoughtful pause. 

“Paul was his first love,” answered Severus, staring at Harry. He stood up and walked toward Harry, stopping just behind him, putting one hand on his shoulder, the other around his middle, pulling him back against him. “You are undoubtedly bothered more than you admit that Al’s intended is a woman.”

Harry let his head tip back a fraction, resting the back of it against Severus’ shoulder. He sighed as Severus tightened his hold around his waist.

“Maybe I’m just prejudiced,” he said, closing his eyes. “I’ve found such peace with you.”

“You cannot fault him for falling in love with a woman, just because a man stole his heart first. We may have done it the other way ‘round,” said Severus, “but he is essentially following the model you laid out.”

“My model, eh?” said Harry, turning his head to nuzzle into Severus’ neck. 

“That you love who you love,” said Severus. “That you are not constrained by age or gender or distance or magical ability.”

“I forgot all the time that Paul was a Muggle,” said Harry softly. He turned in Severus’ loose embrace and roped his hands around his lover’s neck.

“You’ll grow to love Genevieve as well,” said Severus.

“I like her well enough already,” said Harry. “Even more so when I found out she went with him to the cemetery where Paul’s buried.”

“You’ve not been back since the funeral,” said Severus. “And don’t tell me you aren’t one for cemeteries. I know you visit Albus’ grave, and your parents.’”

“It was like losing a son,” said Harry, his voice catching. Severus’ arms tightened around him.

“I know,” said Severus. “I know.”

~*~

“It’s beautiful, Dad.” Albus admired the vessel as Severus studied it critically. “Al and Genevieve will love it. You know how he is about your work.” The vase was indeed beautiful. Severus had used all native clays from New Mexico, the slate blue-gray blending gracefully, almost magically, with the brick red and the sand-colored tan in swirls of desert colors. The traditional two spouts rose from a single wide bowl, the individual spouts connected by a braided handle Severus had crafted from the three different colors of clay. “Is it a potions cup too?”

Severus smiled enigmatically. “Moonstone. Valerian root….”

“Ahh. Peace. Appropriate.” 

“But mainly symbolic—it will not be used as a drinking vessel often.”

“Still, it’s a work of art. They’ll always prize this, Dad.”

“I’ve not tried this form before,” said Severus, frowning a bit. He looked up at his son, his eyes still sharp despite his salt and pepper hair and the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. “I wish I’d thought of it when you and Dominique married.”

“You can make them for our children when it’s time,” Albus answered.

“Children?” Severus turned his attention away from his creation and back to his son. “Is there something you haven’t told us?”

Albus laughed. “Well, we’re not ruling out another one or two anyway,” he said. He pulled out the stool opposite his father and sat down on it. “How’s Harry doing with this whole wedding thing?” he asked, lowering his voice even though Harry wasn’t within earshot.

“He’s getting used to the idea,” said Severus, his voice off just enough for Albus to take notice. 

“He’s not upset about the baby, is he?” asked Albus, his eyes steady on his father.

“The baby?” Severus shook his head. “No, I think he’s looking forward to having another grandchild.”

Albus laughed. “Don’t tell me that after all this time you only _think_ he’s looking forward to it. You two couldn’t hide a stray thought from the other much less something as big as that.”

Severus shook his head. “I think a part of him feels that liking Genevieve is somehow betraying Paul,” he said after a quiet pause to collect his thoughts. He had picked up a brush and was trying out different glazes on some broken bits of pottery on the table in front of him, looking for the perfect combination for the wedding gift.

Albus didn’t react immediately. He watched his father play with the glaze for a moment then shook his head.

“No, that’s not it. I know he loved Paul. Dad, you loved Paul too. We all did. He and Al were just so perfect together. Dad, I think Harry saw himself and you in Al and Paul. I’ll never forget that time when you convinced that guy on the Harley in Washington to take Harry for a ride.”

Severus looked up and smiled, then looked away, out the window. “He’ll not get on another motorcycle again.”

“After Paul was killed in a motorcycle crash? No, I don’t think he will.” Albus looked around the shop, as comfortable and full as the shop in Abiquiu that they still visited once or twice every year. “He must love you deeply, to want what you have for his children.”

“He counts you as one of his own, you know,” said Severus as Albus stood up and made for the door.

“He has the biggest heart of any man I’ve ever know…except one,” answered Albus with a wise smile.

Severus smiled and shook his head. “You’re getting soft in your old age, Mr. Snape.”

“As are you, Papi,” answered Albus, using his son’s nickname for his grandfather. 

Severus snorted. “I shall never be soft,” he muttered to himself as Albus walked out the door.

~*~

“Hold still.” Severus ran the brush through Harry’s long hair again, then gathered it up at the nape of his neck and tied it loosely. He smoothed out imaginary wrinkles in the gold-trimmed emerald green robes then turned toward the mirror to brush his own hair.

“You look great,” said a voice from the doorway. Lily, already dressed, hair done up in a fancy knot, poked her head in. “Dad, Al’s asking for you.”

Harry glanced at Severus in the mirror, and Severus nodded to him. Harry followed his daughter into the corridor, then knocked on the guest bedroom door while Lily disappeared into the front of the house.

Al stopped pacing when Harry walked into the room. 

“Dad.” 

He looked half terrified.

“Al—what’s wrong?” Harry took a tentative step toward his son. Al was dressed in the exquisite groom’s robes they had helped him pick out. He was freshly shaved and his hair was washed and combed. 

“I…I can’t do this. I should never have told Genevieve…asked her, I mean. I’m not ready.”

He had not moved toward his father but Harry closed the distance between them and put a steadying arm on his second son’s shoulder.

“Stop. Take a breath. Now let it out. Another. And another. Right. Do you feel better now?”

“No! I…I don’t know why I’m doing this—getting married. We don’t have to get married just because we’re having a baby.”

“You announced your engagement before you knew you were having a baby,” Harry reminded him. 

“Sweet Merlin we’re having a baby,” said Al, collapsing onto the bed behind him. “I’m not old enough! I know nothing about being a father!”

Harry smiled. “You’re older than I was when I had you. And as for not knowing anything, believe me, you’ll figure it out. What is this really about, Al?” Harry sat down on the bed beside his son, trying to be careful of his robes.

Beside him, Al dropped his head into his hands. Harry draped his arm around his son’s shoulders, rubbed his back.

“I had a dream last night—about Paul.”

Harry’s hand stilled. He waited.

“It’s been six years already, Dad. But in my dream, he was on his bike, just like I remember, patting the seat behind him, tossing me the spare helmet, wanting me to go riding with him. And I argued with him, telling him it wasn’t safe. That I had a wedding to get to. And he rode off without me and damn it, I _wanted_ to be on that bike with him.”

Harry swallowed. Closed his eyes, pressing them shut tightly, looking for the right words and the courage to say them. Opening them again, taking a deep breath, letting it out.

“But you didn’t get on,” Harry said. Al turned his head and stared at Harry, green eyes meeting green eyes. “Paul was an important part of your life, Al. We’ll never forget him, and you shouldn’t either. But you’ve made a brave decision, to go on without him, and you’ve found someone to share your life that you love and who loves you as much as he did—maybe even more. Genevieve is a wonderful woman. You’ll be very happy together.”

Al attempted a smile. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“And you’re alright with it? That she’s…well, that she’s a woman?”

“I’m alright with it.”

Al turned and hugged him then, and for a moment Harry forgot about his dress robes and his combed hair and Al was eleven again, on Platform 9 ¾ of King’s Cross Station, and he was eighteen, about to set off with his new friend Albus Snape on a hiking adventure on the Appalachian Trail, and they were standing on the Pacific coast, sprayed by the mist, not sitting here together on this guestroom bed in the cottage at the back of the Forest.

“I lied earlier,” Al admitted as he hugged his father, his voice not more than a whisper in Harry’s ear. “I know a lot about being a father. I just have to do it like you did all these years.”

Harry laughed. “Try not to make as many mistakes, Al.” He released his son and tried to smooth the wrinkles out of Al’s robes.

“There’s a spell for that, you know,” said Al. “And the only mistake I remember is you not telling us when you got shot.”

Harry froze.

“How long have you known?”

Al shrugged. “We found out right away. Extendable Ears.”

“Extendable Ears.” Harry shook his head, trying to process this new bit of information. Years ago, before Severus, he’d been shot by a Muggle. He’d been an Auror then and had passed off the injury as an on-the-job curse. The injury caused him recurring back pain and still occasionally flared up. And the kids had known from the very beginning but had never let on.

“I’ll do you a favor and buy your son his first set—they still sell them at Ron and George’s shop, you know.”

“You’re going to spoil my son, aren’t you?” asked Al.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” said Harry. “Now come on, we don’t want to be late for that wedding.”

~*~

“Harry!”

The voice reached him as if from a long way away, bouncing down a hallow passageway, echoing in the emptiness. His subconscious mind incorporated it into his surroundings, dismissed it as the sound of an angry bee, a scolding squirrel.

He was having the most lovely of dreams. The heart of the old Forest was throbbing around him and he was enveloped in a bubble of moss and dirt and tree roots that hugged him and held him…

“Harry!” The hand on his shoulder shook him. 

He opened his eyes as Severus rolled him away from the old oak.

“What am I going to do with you?” Severus said with a sigh as took Harry’s place sitting on the forest floor and, leaning against the great trunk of the giant oak, positioned Harry’s head on his lap. But for Severus, even after all these years, the oak behind his back gave him no more life and energy and power than did the wet clay he worked nearly every day.

“Keep me?” muttered Harry.

“It’s like a drug for you, this forest,” said Severus. But he wasn’t complaining, not really. He settled back against the tree, humming softly, while Harry sprawled before him, boneless, head cushioned comfortably on Severus’ thigh.

“You love the forest too,” said Harry softly some moments later when he was awake enough to think more coherently.

“I do, yet I do not get high on it,” Severus said. His hands were carding through Harry’s hair now, pulling out the bits of bark and leaves and moss that had gathered there. “You’re a magnet for this detritus,” he complained half-heartedly.

“I needed space,” explained Harry, ignoring Severus’ second statement and responding to the first.

“Ahhh.” Severus smiled and pulled another leaf from Harry’s hair, dropping it and watching it drift to the forest floor. “The house is only going to get more crowded over the years on holidays, Harry. Lily and James are likely to marry as well, and Albus reports that he and Dominique may expand their family further.”

“Lily is having too much fun to get married anytime soon. And James will never get married. He brings a different girl home for Christmas nearly every year.”

“Hmmm.” Severus gave a non-committal hum and ran his hand down over Harry’s back, squeezed his arse. “Has the inner mage been sated yet?”

“Stop that,” said Harry quietly, rolling onto his side but leaving his head on the comfortable thigh.

“Stop what? This?” Severus gave the arse under his hand another squeeze.

“You know what I mean,” said Harry. “The mage thing.”

“Twelve years together, and still you try to deny it. Harry, you can feel even the finished pots now, after they’ve been fired. Living on the edge of the Forest for this long….”

His voice trailed off, but his hand continued to caress Harry’s back. Harry sighed and struggled up to his hands and knees a few minutes later, but instead of standing, worked himself onto Severus’ lap, straddling his legs. Severus spread them apart so Harry could settle more comfortably on the ground between them. He took Severus’ face between his hands then, worked one behind his neck and caressed it, then pulled him forward, cupping a cheek, running his thumb down the outline of Severus jaw before meeting Severus’ lips with his own. 

Severus’ hands cupped his arse, working themselves between the leafy ground and Harry’s jeans, so that Harry was sitting on the hands instead of the earth.

“Feel me,” said Severus into his mouth, and Harry knew what he meant. _Feel me not the earth. Feel my lips, my tongue, my teeth._

It was impossible not to obey. Severus tasted like the American coffee he still loved in the mornings, the sharp edge of the coffee smoothed by the rich cream he took in his second cup. He kissed Harry as he always did in times like this, when Harry was doubting himself, when he came to the forest for the strength he was lacking. His lips commanded Harry’s focus, working over Harry’s mouth, tasting and caressing the edges, grazing over his jaw line, latching onto his earlobe, pulling that glorious shudder from him as they moved to his neck. He scooted into Severus reflexively, ground their groins together as his center, his reality, his here and now became Severus again. His rock. His home.

“I love you, Harry.”

The words caressed him. Severus didn’t say them often but reserved them for the quiet moments, the lulls where they fit in best, when Harry needed them most.

Harry rested his head on Severus’ shoulder, lips held lightly against the pulse point in his lover’s neck. Feeling him breathe. Breathing with him.

“I’ll do it you want me to,” he said at last. “Find another. Learn from them.”

“Another…?” Severus wanted to hear him say it.

“Another earth mage,” sighed Harry, nuzzling Severus’ neck, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I want you to,” said Severus in a voice as low as a whisper. “I told you that the first time I found you like this, back in that forest in Washington. There are those that can train you—teach you how to handle the power. But you must want to as well. For now…for now it is enough that you spoke the words aloud. That you acknowledged what you are.”

His hands moved up from Harry’s arse to his back and he pulled him closer still so that the thrum thrum thrum Harry felt came through Severus, perhaps from somewhere within Severus himself or from deep within the earth below him. After a time, they struggled to their feet and stood, shaking out a sleepy leg, stretching a tight back, then walked away arm in arm, down the well-worn path that led to their cottage, Harry trailing one hand lightly across the trees as they passed.

_fin_


End file.
